what was promised

a statue I promised you
made of words
the substance of dreams
semblance of true feeling

one by one I form them
cheek and breast   buttock and thigh
I sculpt them   what beauty   oh what beauty
watching you I’ve become entranced

just think what would happen
if I kissed you
if I touched you
but if you let me   love

dream with you in the flesh
I’d forget my promise to you
for  when embracing so fondly
what would an idol of rhyme matter

yes  I promised you
a statue in verse but
kisses and laughter and dream
that sings in the flesh are art as well

*    *   *

© Gregory V Driscoll 2014

Dreaming as Lautrec

Was it near the Boule’ Miche or in Montmartre?
The flowers she chose shamed
the colors on my palette.
The avid canvas ached to capture
the line of her cheek, the calm of her eyes,
the pulse, the very heart of her.
Was it near the Opera or la Madeleine?
No matter now.  My art hangs in her Louvre.

*    *   *

(c) Gregory V Driscoll  2011